


Gold Lips

by LazBriar



Series: The Thief, The Spider, and the Hotel [11]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay, Horny, I'm not kidding, M/M, Smut, Suggestive, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29939328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazBriar/pseuds/LazBriar
Summary: A night of indulgence.
Relationships: Anon/Angel Dust, Thief/Angel Dust
Series: The Thief, The Spider, and the Hotel [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286831
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Gold Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Smut.
> 
> It's just smut.
> 
> I liked writing it.

**Gold Lips**

“This isn’t necessary.”

“Da’ fuck it ain’t!”

There was an appeal to playing things safe in Pentagram City. The act of self-improvement and working towards a better self was a noble cause indeed, and thanks to Charlie, Thief and Angel had grown since their first “casual” meeting over a year ago. Married, best friends, proud parents, survivors, they’d been through the shitter and come out diamonds, though it _did_ require a level of “personal tuning.” Avoiding bad habits, indulgences, booze, certain company, _plans,_ yes indeed being a good boy sure did require a lot of patience and discipline.

Admittedly, the shadow and spider weren’t the best at it. They had hungers, like every other Sinner. They came from backgrounds of impulse, whether it be violence, narcotics, alcohol, or all three. And the sex, couldn’t forget about that! Eventually, those little whispers crept back in, the wants and such. Not to the degree where either might find themselves spiraling out of control, but goddamn, keeping your nose clean got _boring._ Not to mention, the “post-holiday” stuffiness was really taking its toll. They were getting pent up in more ways than one.

Thief loved his husband to death, and he’d do anything to see his spider smile. But he also knew that Angel came from a lavish lifestyle. It was cloaked in abuse, but in those sparse moments where Angel Dust could _be,_ certainly, the thrill of dining on life was intoxicating. And, they had made quite the departure from all that.

Not that Angel blamed his man in the slightest. If, truly, the rest of their life in Hell was bargain meals in their run-down home, well, so fucking be it. He’d been through too much to enjoy short term gains just to have a snort of the “old life.” But if he could get some of that good-good with someone he loved and trusted. . .

Fortunately for both of them, things weren’t so drab, not yet. Quite the opposite, in fact. Angel was getting “spidery.” Thief, by proximity, _felt_ that what with the linking of their souls. Caution was Anon’s first instinct, because ever since various “events,” the two were often on people’s shit list, to put it in the mildest of ways. But eventually, said caution broke down, gave way, because, well, fuck it they wanted to have some fun. A certain _kind_ of fun. That dark, impulsive fun, that “hot breath on your neck at a club” kind of fun, the “your husband wants to look like a tasty piece all for you” type of fun.

Brrr.

Temptations gave way, was the long and short of it. The house felt emptier, staying safe was getting boring, and a hot-blooded pair like Thief and Angel could only take so much before they _wanted._ Just to keep the edge off, really.

So, Angel Dust had ideas. Ideas that Thief didn’t want to admit out loud that he liked it, but, well, _he liked it._ His husband was hot, getting around that was impossible.

The spider’s fingers fussed with his tie, straightening it, before brushing over his suit vest with pearl-white tie. Normally, this attire was the end of it, but oh no, Angel wanted to dazzle tonight. He was gonna’ show his man off like a fucking Rolex and then _wear him like one._ That mean handing off a personalized set of jewelry to his man, which typically contrasted with Thief’s “out of sight” nature. Glimmering gold watch, ring, and neckband accented his frame, and even the choice of eyepatch was a luxurious fabric, granting Thief an appearance befitting a Don.

Angel, in the meantime, had every intention of looking like lap candy just for his man. A short cut black skirt accompanied a matching top terminated at the midriff, which revealed his lithe belly and ample, fluffy cleavage. Underneath the attire, wrapped around his slender body was also webbing of gold fishnets. The shimmering lines cupped and gripped his body in greedy fashion, causing a dance of extra perkiness to his rump and improvised “tits” while anklets and glimmering wrist bands gave the spider an almost trophy-esque ensemble. Arm sugar, a voyeur’s dream, the kind of attire he wore to bend and dive and show off for the _right_ company. As it turned out, only one guy fit the definition.

“It’s uh, pretty showy, Angel.”

Thief said this with an attempt to maintain some degree of feigned composure, and it really didn’t work. Angel grinned, his gold tooth glinting, lips sparkling with a hint of glaze. “Oh, bitch you fuckin’ _love it.”_

 _Nng,_ it wasn’t fair. Because _yes he did._ Thief never wanted his spider to feel like a trinket, or property, he’d had decades of that bullshit as is. But when he wanted to pull the look off, he _could._

Thief gave a weak smile. “Can’t we just stay here and break the bed upstairs?”

Angel cackled, head wobbling as he pat Thief on the cheek. “Atta’ boy. But no, not dis’ time. Whensa’ last time I got to show m’guy off, eh?”

There was that wild, hot black feeling that rushed through the couple. Maybe a long time ago, when they started dating, Thief would have reservations. His possessive desire to protect and shield Angel intermixed with his own ambitions were anathema to a concept like this. Not to mention the need to keep a low profile. But after _everything,_ suppose this was what their marriage earned. They trusted each other so completely that risque ideas weren’t a problem anymore. Thief wasn’t worried about anything, save for Angel setting a room ablaze. Or a building.

And, if he was honest with himself, Junior’s return created an uncomfortable elephant in the room. Heaven was sounding kinda’ _shitty._ Thief and Angel wanted to better, for each other. And they were. But if the ends to that personal betterment was a genocidal regime, maybe. . . the City wasn’t so bad. Fucked up, but it was true.

Playing it clean had gotten old, and the two were lying if they didn’t love the disasters in the other. Did it mean back to a life of crime and whoring? No. Did it mean a hot sloppy fuck with your hot husband while out on the town?

. . . yeah, probably.

Angel finished by brushing Thief’s hidden prosthetic, where the brass hand was covered by a posh glove. “How’s ol’ Stiffy feelin’ tonight?”

Thief flexed it, wiggling his digits. “No complaints.”

“S’what I figured. Y’ain’t tightenin’ up that first nub up so good, makin’ it loose. Don’t ferget about dat.”

The spider leaned in, whispering in Thief’s ear. “Cause ‘dat ain’t what I want t’be loose tonight, nyeheh.”

“Amazing, Angel. Start writing books, make us a fortune.”

Angel granted his husband a small bess on the cheek before sticking out his tongue. “I’mma shut you up wise as, nyehehe, ain’t gonna’ even gonna be able to speak when I’m through with ya!”

Thief cleared his throat. Oh. That sounded promising.

“Let’s maybe get out the door first. . . and where are we going again? This is _your_ master plan.”

Indeed, the conversational flow was “baby I wanna’ go out” and that was really that. Spider gets what spider wants, as the saying went. Of course, Angel wasn’t usually the type for subteltly. A nice walk in the park here and there, maybe a picnic with Nuggets, a burger with his man, but this time. . .

Angel turned away to look himself over in the mirror, adjusting the rest of his ensemble, brushing at his hair sweep, jostling his chest. “Mm, ya’ know Cherri got some turf, yeah? Some extra spread? Well, cause’ double-dicks and m’runty brother got all balls deep-like, dey let some space slide. Means she nabbed ‘erself a little spread downtown, ehehe.”

“Dedicated to large scale explosives, I’m sure.”

“Hah!” Angel chuckled. “Ya’ wish. Naw, she turned one of dem’ stuffy clubs into a fuckin’ loud-ass joint. God a whole goddamn’ entourage of succustaff and incusluts workin’ poles, ‘mong things. Ya’ know the bitch, she don’t do subtle.”

Thief _dared_ to think. “A strip club, huh?”

“Dat and everythin’ else!”

Thief paused, thinking it over. That sure was _public._ Angel sensed the hesitation, turning to face his husband.

“Ohaha, don’t ya’ worry dat cute little head of yers, baby, dey got _private_ spots.”

Angel raised his Hellphone and wiggled it in front of him. “Course, I expect ya’ to take _lots_ of recordings. Ya’ know. Fer memories.”

Thief laughed. “Goddammn, Anthony, I don’t know what’s got into you lately but I kinda like it.”

“Not enough of _you.”_

Angel continued with a shrug. “In other words, enough romance, _lets fuck_.”

“I guess it has been a hot minute since we acted like vagrants.”

The spider snickered. “Atta’ boy!”

“Am I allowed to pickpocket?”

“Only mine.”

Thief feigned a sigh. “Ahh, damn, I guess fucking my sexy husband will have to do. What’s this dives name, anyway?”

Angel blinked before looking at his Hellphone, thumbing through it. “Uhhh. . .” He snapped his fingers.

“Black Peach.”

“. . .kinda’ elegant for her, isn’t it?”

Angel tucked away the phone. “Not if ya’ use yer’ imagination.”

Thief _could._ But he didn’t.

-*-

A blitz of lights danced over _The Boss_ as the behemoth engine roared through Pentagram City. Pinks and bright neons flashed over the black metal while the interior sparkled with a dazzling array of golds and metallic hues. Angel grinned, drinking in the feeling, the raw _power._ Not just of their car, but the sensation of himself and his husband. Sure, they weren’t Overlords by any stretch, but they _were_ dangerous, and the spider loved the feeling. Hot, destructive, seductive, all the good bits.

Arrival at the _Black Peach_ came by in a blur. It was, as Angel indicated, closer to Cherri’s newly acquired turf on the West Side, a wide building of dark glass and metal accompanied with suggestive signs crowning its front. And by suggestive, that translated to “nothing left to the imagination.”

It was popular as far as Thief could see while he shifted _The Boss_ into a parking spot. Its groaning motor drew eyes, and said eyes seemed to populate the front in form of an extensive line. When he keyed off the ignition and exited with Angel, he gestured.

“Didn’t realize your buddy was going for the full nightclub experience.”

Angel glanced at the line and snorted. “Psh, bitch, ya’ think we’ze gonna’ be waitin’? Gimme a sec. . .”

He pulled out his Hellphone and started typestorming, messaging Cherri.

_Kinkyboots: ey bich we here lol you gonna make us w8?_

A pause. Then:

_bombingbichbabe: bout time slut LOL of course you won’t wait I’ll let em know at the front_

_Kinkyboots: tnx bby <3 be nice to see ya also gimme a VIP spot for later >:) _

_Bombingbichbabe: lol why_

_Kinkbyoots: U KNO Y_

_Bombingbichbabe: bitch, lucky for u, I got plenty_

Wearing a satisfied smirk, Angel stowed away the phone before looking at Thief. “No lines. Not fer’ us.”

“Guess we owe her one?”

Angel raised a hand. “Nah. Benefits of bein’ married to a hot ass bitch, ya’ get free shit!”

He extended his arm. “So? Gonna’ show a girl a good time?”

Thief chuckled. In all his days he never fancied himself more than a New Yorkian rat. An ex-mobster and an opportunist meant to lurk, not like the guys on top. The wiseguys, the capos, the fellas who had it _made,_ who wore models on their arms and lived within insulated empires of wealth. Well, before all the backstabbing.

But now, given the opportunity? There was a thrill. Angel was his husband, he had the spider all to himself. Untouchable. There was a greedy, smug-satisfaction with that knowledge. If he was going to enjoy it, _tonight_ was the night. “Unfortunately” for him, Angel Dust was all the type to press that exact button.

“Don’t encourage me,” Thief laughed, coming to Angel’s side and promptly roping a hand around his hip.

That was a lie, Angel knew it meant the exact opposite. And, what Thief denied with words he made up in motions, his hand giving the spider’s rear a playful squeeze to which Angel offered an approving hum. For a moment, he broke away from his husband’s grasp.

“Oh, a’fore I ferget. We makin’ memories tonight, yeah?”

At this Angel leaned over the 429’s hood, widening his legs and pressing fluff cleavage against the slick metal, side-glancing at Thief. “Getcha’ a pinup, pockets, ehehe.”

Thief’s heart did a flip. Brr. Angel’s slender flame accented the car nicely, his hips granting slow slings where the hint of his perky rear pushed through the black skirt. He’d uh, been working on the ass, Thief could see. Now, while Thief wasn’t so savvy with modern phones, he’d made it a point to learn how the camera worked for reasons just like this. He snapped a photo, wordless, eager to ogle it at another time.

Angel cackled, only in that he enjoyed getting his man to silently concede to more _interesting_ desires. Thief put on a front, but when the layers peeled off, he was a real horndog. The spider wanted that, to loosen everything up. They’d save the sweet-talk and responsibility for another time, figured the pair had earned some “vice time” with all they’d been doing.

Sated, Angel hooked himself around his Anon once more as they strut towards the entrance to _Black Peach._ It’s dark, bass-heavy ambiance rippled from the interior with a notable aroma of perfume and booze. A long line of sinners poured from the structure’s mouth, Sinners of every shape waiting patiently to get in. Naturally, Angel ignored this, giving his hips an extra shake as he lead Angel along to the front where an impressively sized Hellhound stood cross-armed. He gave the approaching couple a warning stare as other demons and sinners gawked in horror.

“Don’t know what you’re thinking,” the guard gruffed, “but-“

Angel cut him off. “Nuh uh, zip it poochie. You know exactly who’da fuck I am and who I’m with.”

He paused, blinking. Realization hit him. “Oh. Right.”

He was none too pleased about his shrivel of authority being challenged but, boss girl gave marching orders. And yeah, that _was_ Angel Dust, looking damn good too. . .

Sneering, Angel shoved right through the entrance much to the agitation of the line. Thief hid his laugh best he could, though failed. Inside though. . .

[A downpour of lights flickered through dark ambiance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AK70LCrg4g), cigar smoke and weed licking the air with a choking aroma, intermixed with fuck-you alcohol, drugs, perfume, and sweat. It was an onslaught of the senses that swept up the pair in an instant, a great beast of desire engulfing them. The foyer was littered with tables and guests, seated next to rows and poles, all of which were preoccupied. Some were attended by bright pink demons, their curvy frames hugging the metal, covered only by strips of black (or nothing at all), tails winding into heart patterns as they waved to the audience. Others were maintained by exceptionally effeminate sinners, the kind you’d mistake for a lass at a distance, while the floors were attended by yet more burly Hellhounds, save they were adorned only in g-strings and bowties.

“Fucking Christ on the cross. . .” Thief said, rubbing his head. Okay, he’d been to plenty of mob-run clubs, among things. He had dinner with other associates while a pair of ladies paraded in the nake, and he found _that_ pretty showy. But this!? Even by Hell’s standards, this was _something._

“Wahah, goddamn Cherri!” Angel said as he gazed around, equally impressed. “Bitch blew th’fuckin’ top off!”

Funny, before they arrived, Thief figured the pair would stick out, but in all this, they were probably _underdressed._

“Hellooo!”

Cutting through the pulsing ambiance and general crowd noise was a feminine, melodic tone. A figure swam up to the pair, a lovely woman of generous curves. More specifically, her flesh was a pinkish red and her eyes simmered like golden jewels, sporting a heart-tipped tail and small wings. And that was all? Black cross bandages hid her bits and a set of heels did nothing to hide her “modesty,” though the smirk on her expression indicated this was the point.

“Boss Lady said to look out for you two,” she continued. “She’s got a spot picked out for you both upstairs if you’d follow me?”

Angel looked her up and down. “Well damn, didn’t know Cherri was gettin’ dem succutits t’work for her too!”

Thief looked the hostess over and could only think _hah, my husband has a bigger rack than her._ He also realized the gal wasn’t a typical sinner, and it dawned on him this was likely the first time he met a genuine Hellborn. Directly, at least.

The succubus tossed her short cut of white hair. “Oh, _yes,_ Boss Lady brought in all types here. We’ve got a flavor for _everyone.”_

No doubt, it was the kind of place you’d lose yourself in. If you ever came out again was another thing entirely. “Now, if you’ll come along? Unless you two would like a little entertainment first. . .”

Thief was only interested in his husband. Angel shrugged. “Naw, take us to Cherri! Hah! Haven’t seen dat’ bitch in ferever!”

A nod and the succubus turned, gliding through the crowds while Thief and Angel followed. As they did, a sordid display of sights assaulted them at every turn. Usually, a night club kept itself in tiers. A room for drinks, a bar, lounges, VIP areas, but the _Black Peach_ was a deluge of all these things, and then some. Prudence was out the window and public debauchery was on display, elevating itself well beyond a typical whorehouse. Whether some had a lapful of their choice in “company” or someone was on their knees, it came in waves. . . literally.

The images shifted by in blurs, too much to account for in one go. Even the hostess made an extra show of herself, tossing her hips in an exaggerated fashion while she guided the pair up a long flight of winding stairs. Said stairs lead to a layer that oversaw the floor below, high enough to keep a good view but also cut through some of the music. Eventually, she took them to a venue blocked off by sparkling chains, inhabited by an immense circular couch. In the middle of said couch was a gilded pole, though it was unattended at the moment. Seated however. . .

“Ey! There’s my boy!”

Cherri’s rough tone called over. She sat, cross-legged, wiggling her fingers. “Thanks Trix. Why don’t ya call it early tonight?”

Trix, the hostess, gave a smile. “Mm, thanks Boss. But I’ve got a few johns waiting for my shift to end so. . .”

“Make your stacks, hun.”

With that, the succubus left, Cherri sporting a wide grin. Much like the rest of this affair, prudency was tossed to the side. Her fingers were bejeweled, and she sported thigh high boots, where her outfit did very little to hide the rest of her. Was a miracle she wasn’t just _spilling out_ in all that.

“Damn girl!” cheered Angel. “When’da fuck you start callin’ shots like this? You runnin’ a whole scene now!”

At once, Cherri hopped from her enthroned position to meet Angel, hugging and kissing with a friendly embrace. “You know it!” she said.

“Missed you, Legs! Haven’t had you on the party scene in forever!”

Angel nudged his husband. “Hehe, s’complicated. Just been me and the hubs, ya’ know?”

Cherri glanced to Thief and kept her pleasant expression. Their “relationship” was bumpy, at best, but Thief resolved to look passed things and recognize her as a critical friend to Angel. And besides, she saved them, he couldn’t be cross with her.

“Never thought I’d see you in one of these dives, spooky boy.”

She hugged Thief too, and he returned it. “I can be surprising,” he said.

“But never took you for the uh, brothel type.”

Cherri chuckled. “Oh this ain’t some regular fuckhouse. This is everything I could cram into one place! Besides, we’re busy. Post-extermination celebrating, right? Peeps who made it clean are livin’ it up, so I’m given’ it to em! This joint was just some shitty gent’s club for bad cigars before I whipped it into shape, can you believe it?”

She stretched out her arms, breaking from the hug. “And now everyone’s got somethin’ to stuff a hole, hahah!”

Angel crossed his arms with approval. Thief couldn’t stop but notice how the fluffy tits squished together when he did, making him shudder. All this extra _flesh_ was driving him towards his husband even more.

“Damn. . .” whistled Angel. “How’d ya even pull dis’ off?”

Cherri’s hands went to hips. “Props of owning more turf. Lotsa’ power to throw around. Not that I ever gave a shit, but I got some pretty willing goons. Also, helps that I let em’ keep their cut and offer protection. Nobody fucks with the Boss Lady and her bitches. I’ve been getting' so many sex workers looking for a safe hotspot, It's crazy.”

Angel gave a hard nod. “Damn fuckin’ straight. Good on ya!”

“Cuts into those fuck vendors on the street, too. You know the type.”

Thief could only imagine scummy types like Val maintaining an extensive web of abuse and control. So, in the weirdest ways, Cherri was doing something good for the community.

“Ya’ got a pretty big menu too, nyehehe. Ain’t seen so many, uh, _shapes_ inna’ long time like dis.”

Cherri’s single eye switched between the couple. “Oh you _bet._ You boys want to _order?_ I got dishes for _everybody.”_

 _Angel_ curled an arm around Thief’s shoulder, kissing his cheek. “Mmm, sorry babe, dis’ one is all fer me. ‘Sides, we ain’t swingers.”

The demonette gave him a surprised over. “Really? _Now_ I’m surprised.”

Thief only smirked. He didn’t need to say anything, the enforcement of his husband’s loyalty was enough. And heartwarming. And. . . kinda hot.

Cherri tossed her hair. “Well damn, thought I’d sneak in a lapdance for you. But, hey, whatever, we cater to couples, and ya’ know. . .”

She gestured around her. “You got a top digs. Nice and private. . . though dunno’ why you two troublemakers didn’t just stay home and fuck.”

“Sometimes ya’ wanna' fuck yer husband in an exotic place!” challenged Angel. “Atmosphere, baby!”

“He’s right,” added Thief.

“Cute,” said Cherri. “Well. . .”

She stopped, her phone buzzing. Cherri sighed and yanked it out, looking it over. “Agh, shit. Was hopin’ to catch up. One of my boys got cornered and he needs a break, gotta’ take care of it. Why don’t you two get nice and comfy. This whole venue has anything you need, so, ya’ know. Go fuckin’ nuts.”

“Dat’s the idea!”

Before Cherri left, Angel grabbed her shoulder. "Ey. And Cherri. _Thanks._ Don’t be a stranger, girl, I miss ya’!”

They gave each other another endearing peck on the cheek. “Same, Legs. And Anon? You have fun. . . don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She left, gliding through the chains and leaving the pair to their solitude. Of sorts. The room wasn’t exactly that, more like a VIP lounge separated with a brothel’s equivalent of tinsel, but it was enough. The ambiance of the building created its own barrier, and really, added to the whole thrill. Frankly, Angel liked it. If some gawker got to see him throating his husband’s dick and got all jealous-like, well, that was a win-win!

Thief caressed the spider’s hips. “Wow. _The_ Angel Dust, all to myself, huh?”

Once they were alone, Angel smooched him. “Lucky you’ze.”

Thief lifted the lithe figure with surprising strength before plopping into the couch, Angel’s legs draped over his waist. “Helluva place.”

Angel scanned the room, lit by strips of pink neon. The center “stage,” a surface of black glass, was also backlit with lights, creating a sinful, shrouded interior. “Mm. Never took Cherri for da’ boss type. Eh. Den’ again, she’ll prolly’ get bored and let’er bootlickers take care of it.”

“Sure about that?”

“She ain’t never been the controllin’ type, and uh, ain’t had mucha’ high opinion of sex clubs.”

Here, Thief got to drink his spider in. All that cream white fluff peppered with pink freckles and wide, come-hither eyes. The gold-fishnets clasped his body so enticingly, and the aroma of perfume lingered. He twitched.

“True. They’re never clean.”

Angel chuckled and rubbed Anon’s neck. “Uh huh.”

“I don’t mean like _that._ I mean the drugs and trafficking and shit.”

“Mmhm. Well there ya’ go. ‘Specially with all my baggage, ahaha. Wasn’t pretty. But now look at her!”

Thief ogled Angel over from his beautiful face to perky fluff. “Yeah? Look at _you.”_

This place was nothing but a crucible of desire and it pushed Thief to want his husband in wholly new ways. All the sex and bodies just made him think of Angel more and more. The spider. Funny, smart, pretty. . .

Unf. Angel _felt_ it. Their intertwined souls shared mutual feelings, emotions, sensations, the whole nine. And so, in a strange feedback effect, Angel could _feel_ his husband’s attraction. In every sense. It got his blood going. To be so badly wanted, to be _demanded,_ like Thief couldn’t spend one fraction of a second away from his husband he loved him so, that was hot. But not just the love, the lust. Angel based much of his identity on being desirable. He liked being a tease, sexual, so to know he could get Thief’s engine revved so readily was intoxicating.

[Well, time to touch those buttons.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tE3xesRPz2w)

Angel pushed up, pulling out of his black top, his fluff front providing a gentle bounce as he stripped the fabric off. “Lookit’ me? Mm, sure. How bout watchin’ me on ya’ dick, pockets?”

Their lips met. Thief grumbled with a low chuckle. “Ah, no, please not that, I’d never survive,” he said, deadpan.

“Oh bitch ya’ love it.”

“You know I do.”

Another kiss, this one a concoction of want and intimacy. Wordless, but the hot, wet touch they shared to unify their bond together, among things. Thief _had_ to grip Angel around the waist, let the spider’s embrace and sensation fill him, because he was too much but Thief could never get enough.

He also wanted to see the spider serve. Lucky for him, Angel _liked_ that part. He still liked power. Thief had that, sly little shadow devil he was, and tonight Angel had every intention of making him feel like a big fucking shot.

And then maybe take a few down the throat.

“Mmhmm. . .”

He unbuttoned Thief’s suit vest to parse the fabric, slowly revealing the shadowy flesh while Angel licked his lips. Mmm, chest. Thief had filled out a bit since their first meeting. All the parts worked over from his constant vagabond-ing _really_ paid off. Delicate hits of sinewy tone was visible, soft and taut in all the right spots. Angel ran his lips and tongue where he explored, exposing Anon’s chest to get a taste, literally.

Two hands went to rest on Thief’s knees in submissive fashion, squeezing them while the spider’s spare fingers continued to work. He smooched in continuous patterns till trails of his “effort” were quite visible, Thief watching and offering contented grumbles as his spider worked him over.

Didn’t take long for Angel to loosen his man out of pants, and fuck, he’d been _struggling._ Thief’s flank sprung free, smacking Angel on the cheek while the spider simpered.

“Wohaha, ya’ been hidin’ long, huh? Poor baby.”

Ohh yes, didn’t take Angel long to grip the inches in his silky palms. Fuck, _fuck,_ Thief was hard, a twitching mess of smoldering want, tip dribbling with presex. Admittedly this got Angel all bothered too, on the notion this was _all his,_ adding to the fact he could get his guy so bothered.

“Can you blame me?” Thief said, brushing his spider’s hair sweep.

“I sure fuckin’ can,” Angel said, pressing his lips near the bellend and granting a hot breath. Then, a kiss, submissive and seductive, moaning as his mouth curled around. His eyes fluttered and he looked up to his husband, who grunted again, clenching his teeth.

Ooo, atta boy.

No more messing around. Angel could tell Thief had been pent up. A lot longer than this – probably since the holiday fiasco at the Hotel he’d been wanting a night with his Angel that felt “relaxed.” Well, Angel Dust was more than happy to oblige. He wrapped his mouth around the tip before slipping the mast into his warm, wet mouth, a chorus of teasing, vocal moans leaving him in muffled fashion. He went slow at first, making a show of his work, lips clasping and dragging along the hard length while Thief’s legs spread, watching his pretty husband engulf his malehood.

“OhgodAngel. . .” groaned Thief, head arching and resting in the couch fabric as hot waves of intense electricity consumed his loins. Angel went to knees, hips dancing from side to side as he giggled, throat full of cock, loud, chorus-like slurps emitting from his motions.

Saliva and presex trailed from his lips, pooling into the ground while Angel pushed his mouth from tip to base, his long tongue curling and licking with each struck. A hand massaged Thief’s abdomen, squeezing the muscle while the other _gently_ coddled Anon’s stones, enticing as much physical intensity from his husband as possible.

Angel popped him free, stroking the member and grinning, ferocious applying kisses and smooches to the cock’s side. “My man likes? Neheh, howsit’ feelin? Knowin’ ya’ got the hottest piece of ass just fer dis’ dick, eh? Ehehehe!”

Thief was dizzy, his mind flooded with adrenalin and heat, yanking off pretense. “That so?” he managed.

At once, he stood in a swift motion, cupping Angel by the cheek. He left his prosthetic to the side given the discomfort it could cause, but certainly pushed Angel back to his tip with the other. Angel gave a surprised gasp, the length smothering his cheek, but he only cackled again. That’s what the spider wanted, what he wanted to see. Get his man _wild,_ wanting, desperate. In the darkest recesses of his wants, Angel liked when his husband took control, used him. It gave Angel a strange sense of completion and comfort. Even safety? If Charlie were around, she’d probably ramble about how it was the sense of a powerful individual asserting control, and if said individual asserted control, Angel was safe in all that.

Or, maybe he loved choking on Thief’s cock. Whichever.

He offered another muffled yelp as his husband shoved into him, taking command of the pace. Angel instinctively gripped his husband’s waist as the shadow man abruptly thrust and bounced into him, causing the spider to gag and cough (though it was for show, he was still a professional!), trails of sticky nectar flooding from the coupling. Each impact forced moans from the duo, Angel’s fluffy “tits” bouncing with each strike. The hot fullness was overwhelming in the best of ways, enough that Angel was aroused too, own stiffness building in his lace.

“Fuck!”

Oh but Thief couldn’t take all the buildup without losing it. Poor man had been teased the whole night and Angel _knew it._ He felt his husband clench, throbbing, twitchy cock exploding to life as it found purchase in Angel’s awaiting throat, held there like a pocket as waves of tasty issue filled the spider. Angel winced, mascara running as he looked up at his man in demure fashion, playing the part of slutty sub, hoping to push Anon over the edge. By the way it felt, he did a good fucking job.

“Mgglkk. . . “

Angel sputtered as he slipped off the throbbing inches, the cock a messy, dripping pillar. A bridge of sticky trails connected Angel’s soft lips to the tip, his face aflush, panting with tongue hanging free. “Gawd. My poor man needed dat, huh?”

Thief heaved, catching his breath. “Hah. I don’t think we’re done.”

The spider’s heart did a little _thum-thump._ Before he knew it, Thief had embraced him and lifted him by the hips, falling into the couch as his hands pulled and stripped at Angel’s panties. So hungry were Thief’s motions he tore the gold-fishnet to reveal Angel’s ample backside, exposing his rump and pink rose.

“Ey! Ya’ fucked up m’threads!”

“Can’t help it,” growled Thief. “Gorgeous.”

He kissed Angel, tasting his husband and himself, and in a breath he was back to throbbing hardness. Angel just did that to him, an endless, amazing drug, so beautiful in mind and sense. Thief could never get enough. He wanted his spider in all ways. Held, close, inside.

Angel panted, curling arms around Thief’s neck. “Nn! We goin’ fer a ride, stallion!?”

Fuck, it had been a while. Carefully, Thief rubbed Angel’s pucker, massaging him carefully before nuzzling the entrance with his sodden tip. Then, in one smooth, shoving motion, he was inside. Angel tensed, his own cock as hard as steel, smothered into Thief’s abdomen as his man filled him to completion.

The rest was that wonderful, indulgent familiarity.

-*-

Cherri checked the time. With all the “business” going on tonight, it easy to lose track of. . . well, everything. If it wasn’t an Imp asking if their ass looked good enough in a g-string it was a succubus querying about the “substantialness” of her rack. All was good, by the Boss Lady’s account.

But she’d forgotten about Angel and his beau. How long had it been?

“An hour!? Shit, musta’ left by now.”

At a quick pace, she jostled back upstairs, pushing through crowds to find the VIP lounge again. As she did, she almost walked through the foyer. . .

. . .if Angel wasn’t bent over a couch, his moans intermixed with Thief’s grunts. Said spook was thrusting in a slow, intimate sense, chest pressed to back as the two had clearly lost any sense of their surroundings, collapsed and dizzy into each other. Cherri blushed. Ho, shit, been a while since she’d seen Angel. . . like that.

Actually, come to think of it, she didn’t remember Angel looked that way. It was different. It wasn’t put on. His motions, sounds, there were subtle differences. He was enjoying himself. A lot.

Cherri blushed, leaning and grinning. Should she be watching this?

Maybe just for a little bit.

“Damn, Angie, get it. . .” she murmured before a hand came to her shoulder.

“Boss Lady?”

“Bwuh!?”

It was one of her stallions, a Hellhound of pale grey fur and muscle. Lots of that.

“Uh. Ahem. What’s up?”

“Oh, just needed your approval on some outfits, official sign-offs.”

Cherri groaned. “Uggggh, I’m sure they're fine. Does it hide your dick?”

“Well. . .”

“Good enough. Pay for show, remember?”

Cherri liked the whole “harem” aspect of running a club. But actually running the club? Blegh. She glanced once more at the humping couple, sighing. Maybe Angel would let her watch another time?

“Alright, alright, let’s go.”

In the meantime, Thief finished for a number he didn’t even know. His hand curled and stroked Angel to completion until they were a literal fucking mess, collapsed into the other.

“This was amazing,” he wheezed.

“T-told ya,” Angel responded, panting. “M’bronco needed it!’

As it turned out, yeah. This was necessary.


End file.
